


Soul Soldier

by MahoganyDoodles



Category: Dragon Ball
Genre: Adventure, Alternate Universe - Demons, Alternate Universe - Human, An exorcism adventure/mystery with a side of political intrigue, Drama, Exorcisms, F/M, Mystery, Politics, Priest!Vegeta, Priests, Religious Themes, Roman Catholicism, Romance, demon hunting
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-23
Updated: 2019-12-23
Packaged: 2021-02-26 06:54:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,408
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21919417
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MahoganyDoodles/pseuds/MahoganyDoodles
Summary: It's quiet when he hunts, the only sound his heart beating in his chest as he tracks the supernatural terrors that threaten his kingdom.But the demons are growing stronger. And if he wants to defend his people, he needs help. From whatever source he can get it.
Relationships: Bulma Briefs/Vegeta
Comments: 14
Kudos: 21
Collections: Holy Rites//Horny Nites





	Soul Soldier

**Author's Note:**

> This was written as part of the [Holy Rites//Horny Nites](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/PriestVegeta) collection, in conjunction with [Katschusa](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Katschusa/pseuds/Katschusa), [Lachanophobic](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lachanophobic/pseuds/Lachanophobic), [Lady_Red](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lady_Red/pseuds/Lady_Red), [ni21](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ni21/pseuds/ni21), [Rogue_1102](https://archiveofourown.org/users/rogue_1102/pseuds/rogue_1102), [Ruthlesscupcake](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ruthlesscupcake/pseuds/Ruthlesscupcake), and [Areo_ian](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Areo_ian/pseuds/Areo_ian), where we all took spins on the same prompt of Priest!Vegeta, along with an extra individual prompt, and their works are all absolutely fabulous and you should check them out! That being said, this work does have religious themes and describes exorcisms and haunting, so while there is no smut, please proceed with caution if you would rather not read any religious content or anything that could be considered religiously offensive. An extra special thanks to [Rogue_1102](https://archiveofourown.org/users/rogue_1102/pseuds/rogue_1102), for beta-ing and cheering me on, and [Katschusa](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Katschusa/pseuds/Katschusa) for designing this incredible banner for the event. Many thanks and much love!
> 
> Additional Prompt: Confession.
> 
> I would be remiss if I didn’t mention the many things that inspired themes of this work, especially Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Howl’s Moving Castle, and an Uber driver that I had in Dallas.
> 
> Find me on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/MahoganyDoodles) and Discord under the same name!

_ I got soul, but I’m not a soldier. _

* * *

Blood pounded in his ears, teeth bared in a feral smile as he rounded the stone outcropping, spying his prey. His cross extended automatically upwards. An instinct long since burned into his mind, his first line of defense in the protection of his people. At long last, he had them. 

Three pairs of cruel eyes met his as the pair turned, their translucent forms flickering. 

“So… this is the runt that’s been interfering in our work,” the taller spit out, “I’m afraid I expected something more impressive for all the trouble you’ve caused us, sanctifying our way-points and purifying those we desired to possess…” He turned to his companion, “His meddlesome ways are over; destroy him while I finish.”

He crouched, ready to begin. He had hunted hundreds of demons and defeated them all, and these two would be no different.

Through the shadows, an inhuman face materialized in front of his, claws raking down the side of his face with a cackle. 

Vegeta stumbled backwards. What the fuck? How had he appeared so quickly? 

Sword drawn, he lifted his cross higher, “Pater noster qui es in coelis, sanctificetur nomen tuum—”

The figure was back, its squat frame keeping it out of reach of his sword as he parried and swung, aiming to land a hit on the ghoul with the blessed steel. Another slash of his claws and Vegeta’s sword was swinging the opposite direction, arm screaming from the force required to redirect his enemy’s attack. The beast hadn’t slowed down or shown so much as an ounce of hesitation in the battle. 

The demon laughed. “Did you think you could defeat me, armed only with mindless mutterings such as those?” A sidestep and he was circling Vegeta’s flank, the cross whipping around just in time to repel the demon. His eyes darkened, hissing as he backed up, “You won’t be leaving alive.”

The corner of the priest’s lips quirked up. Finally, a worthy opponent.

Their battle continued, requiring each and every tactic Vegeta had ever learned to keep his head above water. His sword sang as it met demon flesh, but every blow he landed seemed to have barely more effect than his initial prayers. And so, he continued chanting, praying along his rosary, getting farther and farther along, growing in power. 

At last—an opening. 

The demon twisted just a hair too slow, leaving a gap for the tip of the blade to bury itself deep in his abdomen. The ethereal flesh shrieked, necrotizing away from the wound and the demon dropped to a knee, clutching at his wounded gut. 

The broadsword raised to the heavens, a messenger of justice to deal the final, sanctifying blow to the head. 

And then froze. 

Every muscle in his body screamed as he crashed to a stop, eyes frantically searching the area, his lips barred in a feral battle cry that surely now morphed into a scream of terror.

The demon’s wound was sealing before his eyes—dark, thick blood pouring from the side as the flesh stitched back together piece by piece. Their eyes met, the hate and hellfire burning bright in his opponent’s, voice a hoarse rattle, “I didn’t want to have to resort to this for a pitiful human like you—” Vegeta writhed and twisted in the grasp, fighting ferociously against the invisible force that had gripped him but his body didn’t so much as emit a twitch against that power. Raising a claw, the small being finished, “—but it’s time for you to meet the pain of my skills.”

Skeletal claws raked across his abdomen, rending flesh from bone. His scream pierced the weight across him, his body collapsing to the ground as he clutched his wounded side in pain, trying to ignore his blood painting the ground. 

_ Fuck _ . Minor demons he could banish effortlessly, but the creatures he had been encountering were getting stronger and stronger and this time-manipulating one was the strongest he had battled yet… and Vegeta was questioning whether he could still hold them off, regretting his earlier overconfidence. 

His hand grappled for his rosary again, intent to draw upon the power he had sequestered there. Couldn’t afford to be sloppy—he had to finish the job now. “Ave Maria, gratia plena—”

Air rushed out of his lungs, his back slamming into the hard Earth, the demon’s hands clenching around his throat. Each breath was a struggle, his body frantically bucking to throw the demons off as its hands squeezed ever tighter. 

It was his last shot—his body screaming in protest as his hand scrambled for the flask at his hip. 

His fingers locked around it, frantically flipping the top and bringing it to his attacker’s face, spraying him at full force. 

An unearthly shriek permeated the air, howls of pain as his enemy writhed above him, his weight pinning the priest down. He brought the flask up again, spraying over, and over, and over, and over, until only a sizzling husk remained above him, the still figure’s features melted beyond recognition. 

His fingers shuffled again, finding the pouch of beans tucked deep within his robes. He brought his last to his mouth, groaning as he felt the energy flood through his system, regenerating his spirit and closing his wound.

The body flew off him, tumbling across the grass while he caught his breath, panting heavily as his bruised throat flooded with air. 

A booted foot stepped on the corpse, stopping it in its track. “Well, well. I expected the fight to be over soon after I completed the ritual, but I didn’t anticipate you would be the victor.” No longer translucent, the second demon glowed with burning blue energy. He kicked the mangled corpse at his feet, sending it flying back to where Vegeta struggled to stand. Those malignant eyes flashed, contemplating his weakened state. “Hm. I can’t say I’ll miss him, but he has taught me a valuable lesson. Perhaps I have underestimated you, human. I will not do so again.”

He was there and then gone—a flash in the wind, blue streaking through the forest.

_ Shit, I can’t let him escape!  _ Vegeta stumbled forward and then stopped, a groan escaping his lips as cramps radiated through his torso. It was too late, in his moment of weakness the demon had fled. Sure to continue terrorizing his people, because he couldn’t defend them…

But he could learn his enemy and be prepared for the next time. 

He marched toward the site, each stride growing stronger. Ash clouded the air and he coughed, his wound twinging.

Corruption wasn’t strong enough to describe what had happened there. The air itself had become…  _ arcane _ : the stench of air polluted by the desecration that had been undertaken. The mangled corpse of an unnamed victim— _ another person that Vegeta had failed _ —lay on the ground, limbs and disemboweled organs extended in a gross facsimile of the pentagram traced with their own blood staining the grass. Even for a demon, this was… perverse.

“You know, it’s a lot easier to do that when you know their name.” He whipped around, diving for the sword that had been thrown during the fight for his life. His enemy was invisible—hiding—and the hair at the nape of his neck stood on end as he tensed, waiting for this new threat.

The wind whispered again, a streak of blue painting his periphery. “Not going to be easy to destroy a demon from beyond the fourth circle of hell, like this weakling was.”

To his side, a woman who must have been carved from ivory. Smooth, creamy, porcelain skin. Soft blue locks. Luminous eyes and cherry lips. The ethereal beauty that even the masters had failed to capture. And a smile, just for him—

_ The devil doesn’t come in a red cape and horns, he comes as everything you’ve ever wished for. _ He gritted his teeth and shook his head, tearing himself from his stupor. Surely, she wasn’t human. And to have appeared in a tainted place like this, she wasn’t an ally either.

His sword raised as did his chants, “Pater noster—”

The demoness scoffed. “Please, don’t make me laugh. As if those safety blankets could even slow someone like me down.” She grinned, teeth pearly white and smile predatory. “But you don’t have to worry about me, handsome. I could never destroy a body as  _ sinfully _ delicious as yours.”

His sword didn’t falter, still held before him in preparation to strike at any time. “Hng. So, a demon of lust then, using your influence to attempt to cloud my mind.”

Her laugh rang through the forest, a tinkle of bells. “Oh, I assure you, any lusty thoughts are your own.” The succubus sighed, “Though why does everyone assume I must be a demon of lust? I could never be so base.” Fingers ghosted across his cheek and he swiveled to find her now standing behind him, encircled by resplendent gold metalwork, frescoes and tapestries, precious gems as large as his fist. “I’m a demon of wealth, and I just want to share my gifts.”

His eyes narrowed. “Everything has a price. Don’t try to sidestep that, demon.”

“Well, yes. But that depends what I want.” Unbridled covetousness shone in her eyes as they dragged up his body. 

He had never felt quite so unsettled. Her full eyes lacked a pupil, just endless sea-blue iris that  _ burned, _ her eyes as fiery as her composure was cool. And to have their weight trained on him made him feel like a slab of meat, ready to be served up to her whims. 

“You’re nothing but a demon. I know  _ exactly _ what your price is.” 

She had begun moving now, circling closer to where he stood. “Most of the oldest demons are just angels who lost their wings. And what can I say, I just happened to love shiny things.” Peals of laughter cascaded again. “You see? Easily distracted. As I said, I mean you no harm.”

He didn’t let his eyes leave her frame for a second. “If you truly mean me no harm, then begone. I have no need for these  _ gifts _ you wish to bestow.” 

It was the moment she had clearly been waiting for, the fire in her eyes burning brighter, now a turquoise glow to match her hair. “Oh, but I don’t just have a wealth of physical possessions, I much prefer to grow my wealth in knowledge. And you need that, don’t you?” she crooned.

“What use would a  _ demon _ have for the information I need?” he spit.

“Tut tut, such terrible manners. If you weren’t wearing that garb I could easily mistake you for a bad, bad man.” She rolled her shoulders, back arching as she reached for the sky. He pointedly ignored the way she angled her curves towards him, white collar burning against his neck. “Well, when you’ve been around for as long as I have, you learn a few things. And I do so love to read. You never know what interesting factoid you might learn in a book, or the power of a well-placed journal to shape scientific thought for the next century. But if you truly want me to go…” She shrugged, hands turned upwards in a mockery of the Lord’s Prayer. 

“Leave.”

She winked, salacious to the end. “I’ll see you around, Badman.” Then she was gone as quickly as she came, her last words fading into the breeze. 

A demon such as her, thinking she could tempt _him_ with her sexual innuendo! He kicked dirt at a point of the still smoldering pentagram, “As if.”

Even if he had been an expert in nefarious rites, the site was so destroyed it would take him weeks to piece together exactly what had been undertaken here. There was nothing more in this forest for him to learn. It was time to return to his people. 

* * *

The streets of Saiya didn’t bustle the way they used to. Economic downturn, the constant threat of war from neighboring Tuffles, and the increase in supernatural terrors had assured that. It ground his spirit to see their warrior nation struggle, but they still had their pride and they would carry on, as they always did. 

“Hey asshole!” Groaning internally, he stopped in his tracks. There was only one ingrate that would speak to him like that. 

Sure enough, Caulifla was marching from her family’s nearby stall. “Any luck on your wild goose chase?”

“No.” Exhaustion set in his bones. This wasn’t a conversation he wanted to have now. 

“So, you didn’t find the demons that possessed my brother?”

“I did.”

She looked at him expectantly, until understanding dawned in her eyes, “But they got away. Sheesh, I could’ve killed them both if you would let me at ‘em.”

“Well I killed  _ one _ of them.” Eager to change the subject, he asked, “How is Renso doing?” 

Caulifla sighed. “He’s doing better. He hasn’t spoken in tongues since you exorcised him, but that’s only because he hasn’t spoken at all.” They had their squabbles, and Renso certainly didn’t approve of Caulifla’s attitude or lifestyle, but they did love each other. “Cabba’s been looking for you, by the way.” A migraine built between his temples. That was just another thing he couldn’t deal with right now. “Kale is worried too—her brother’s been acting a little off.”

“Broly’s  _ always _ been a little off,” he retorted. 

Caulifla laughed, “Yeah, no kidding.” Her brows drew together, “But you do need to go talk to her. She’s worried sick. And even I’ll admit, Broly’s been acting a little stranger than usual…”

He nodded. “I’ll visit them as soon as I can,” his eyes flickered to the palace.

“Yeah, I get it, go deal with the only asshole in this place bigger than you,” she rolled her eyes, turning to walk back.

“He is your king, show some respect!” Vegeta growled at her retreating form. Caulifla just waved a hand over her shoulder, ignoring his words. 

* * *

Footsteps echoed down the anfractuous hallways, the soundtrack of his approach to the place he least wanted to be. Just past the throne his study door was closed—never a good sign. A steadying breath and he pushed inside.

His father scowled down at the table below and the pieces arranged in various battle strategies there. “Ah, so you’ve finally shown up. While I take care of the duties you abdicated.”

It was always the same. Why would today have been any different? “I  _ was _ tending to my duties to the people. I was protecting them from the supernatural harm you have failed to do so far.”

“You  _ should _ be protecting them by commanding our military, and focusing on honing your diplomacy and economic skills, where you can be most valuable to our people.”

Vegeta scoffed. “And here I thought our famous military strength came from our soldiers’ commitment to our faith. Yet you criticize me for using that faith to fight?”

“Our soldiers do draw strength from our faith, to make us stronger, better fighters as you should have done. But to actually become a religious leader is for those too weak to fight—like your brother.” The older man spit in disgust, Vegeta growling in response. “Tarble was knocked flat on his back again in the yards this morning. He’s failed nearly every physical trial that has been set before him, the weakling. He is an embarrassment to the office of crown prince.” His eyes narrowed on his son. “Just another failure, like you failed to honor your role, and now our line will die with you.”

“If you say you wanted a crown prince with diplomatic and economic sense, then Tarble was the better choice anyway, maybe he can finally settle these tensions with Tuffles. Can you blame them for taking advantage of our weakened position after so many generations of waging religious war against them?”

“Complete blasphemy, can’t believe a son of mine would dare sympathize with the heretics—”

“—and he has Gure, he’s perfectly capable of siring his own heirs to the throne—” 

“Don’t speak to me of that outsider—” the mutter was harsh, tone sharp and cutting.

He ignored his father, shooting back, “It’s been over a year since I abdicated my titles, it’s time to accept that and move on. I did what had to be done, our people were being killed and terrorized and I was the only one who stepped up.” 

His father sneered, “And you fail at even that. Did not the demons you were chasing escape? What does your playing at priest matter with the threat of war hanging overhead and our people having nothing to eat?”

“It matters because otherwise people would be dead, and some still are,” he snapped back. “Do all of these disappearances and deaths mean nothing to you? We don’t even need permission from the bishop to perform exorcisms anymore, we’re so overrun it would be too late for our people if we even hesitated for a second.”

“Most of these so called ‘demons’ are nothing more than our villager’s imaginations or a convenient excuse to cover up the adultery and murders their sinning natures compel them to commit; you’re even more of a fool than they are if you believe them to be genuine hauntings.”

That was it. He stormed to the door, calling over his shoulder, “At least I’m doing something—which is more than can be said for you.” 

His father’s eyes flashed, his head whipping up to meet his son’s gaze. “I am doing more to preserve the success of our nation than you could ever imagine.”

He turned back to the ancient carved door, finished with his father, his condescension, his refusal to budge from the old ways… he froze. There were few that knew more about the old ways than his father, perhaps he could decipher the message about true names from the blue demoness, whether it was advice or hidden trap—

“What, still have more failures to share with me before you finish your retreat?” that accursed voice called to him.

No. He had had enough of his father’s verbal abuse for one day. He pushed through the door into the streaming sunlight, to solve the mystery on his own.

* * *

Nearly an hour passed while Vegeta wandered the streets of the capital, paying visits to citizens he had helped to ensure no demonic possession continued, collecting tips on potential phasms he and his deputies needed to investigate next. One thought lurked in the back of his mind all the while, infesting his thoughts. 

Failure. 

His father was right, just not in the regards that he believed. The need to exorcise and banish demons was critical to his people’s continued survival. It was his method of doing it, his difficulties in locating the threat, in completing the exorcism, in acting reactively rather than proactively that he failed. 

But who was he supposed to turn to, to learn? His father had already proven how useless he was in these matters. And he himself was the best exorcist in the hemisphere, although there may be some of his colleagues in the Holy City that may have more knowledge... Unfortunately, book burnings over the centuries—including in his own beloved Saiya, he reminisced with dismay—had eliminated many of the sacrilegious texts that may have held the information he needed. But with the recent uptick in public interest in pagan worship and the occult, perhaps some newer texts might exist that held the answers he sought. 

The remainder of his day was spent combing the niche departments of the bookshops of the city, from large chain bookstores to the royal archives to the tiny ramshackle resale shops whose wares occupied only a few paltry shelves. Each offered no more insight than the last, and some of the information that he did find was laughable. Ancient superstitions about throwing salt over the left shoulder and breaking eggshells so witches could not use them to cross running water. Spells to raise the dead that looked like children’s book rhymes and do-it-yourself construction of a scrying mirror. But little to nothing on demons, in either the most ancient tomes or the most cutting research on the paranormal. 

Frustration grew with every failed shop, every manuscript thrown carelessly back on the shelf. Perhaps his father was right in some regards: it certainly did seem there were far more accusations of false demons and attempted witchcraft than those that were real. But yet nearly every case he had investigated had involved genuine demonic presence…

He sighed. He was running out of options. 

The latest book slammed shut, a tinkling of the bell soon to follow as he exited the shop. He would send some emails to other clergymen, some of the professors he had worked with in the seminaries he had delivered lectures at. Perhaps they would have some idea what could be done to fight these new, stronger demons...

A tingling at the nape of his neck tore him from his musings. He jerked his head up, peering about for the source of the sensation.

Of course. His eyes had landed on the University of Sadala, feeling as though an electric current was now flowing through the length of his body. Where could he find a greater collection of academic literature than the leading research university in the country?

The door whisked closed behind him, and he announced, “I need you to escort me to the sections on religious texts immediately.”

The scrawny attendant gave him a once over, “This library is restricted to students and faculty only, I can’t let just anyone in, Father.”

“Just anyone?! I am your  _ Prince, _ ” he hissed, leaning over the desk to encroach upon her personal space. 

The assistant scooted her chair backwards, squeaking, “I thought our prince was Prince Tarble and, er, forgive me sir but you two don’t look very similar and we’re a non-denominational university as well—”

He was about to explode—this was it, just another shitty end to an incredibly shitty day and now she was going to pay for crossing him. 

A voice called out, “Forgive her, Vegeta, she just came from the rural provinces and started this year. Ruta, he’s with me. He should be granted access to any sections of the library he would like.” The newcomer slapped him on the shoulder, and he turned to see Fasha, the head of the Ancient and Modern Literature departments.

The assistant hurriedly stood to attention, scrambling to remove the barrier to grant them access to the library. “Y-yes, of course, ma’am!” 

“So Vegeta, I heard my niece gave you quite the run for your money this afternoon at the market.” Fasha flashed him a grin, only  _ too _ well acquainted with the headache dealing with Caulifla could be.

Vegeta groaned, “Don’t remind me of that idiot right now.”

His companion laughed as they reached the base of the stairs and began to climb, “So, you said you were looking for everything we have on religion? That’s going to be another five stories up.”

They were halfway to the third floor, and all of a sudden the tingling sensation was back. It was here, whatever he was looking for. Somewhere on this floor. He was halfway down the hall when he turned back to see Fasha waiting, eyebrows raised at his sudden departure. “I changed my mind. I’ve decided to start my search here first.” A stray thought caught his attention, “Wait, you knew I was looking for religious texts—how long were you standing there listening?”

“Oh… long enough.” She laughed, “And as a thank you for getting you in here, don’t forget to talk to my son at some point, too.”

Just another thing he had been avoiding. He gave her a curt nod and turned back, the siren song calling to him again. 

Stacks and shelves and sections piled high with books later, he reached an area he had never seen before—even in the days he had privately studied at the university. The feeling was growing stronger again, his head pulsing with energy and suspense.

On the very end of the shelf, a tome that felt so out-of-place, so ancient, that it must have been there for ages gathering dust. That had to be it. 

He lifted the book reverently; the leather was cool under his hands and the pages all uneven, as if they had been cut and bound by hand rather than the fluid mechanical processes that were used today.

The book fell open in his hands, nameless spine creaking to reveal—

Nothing.

That couldn’t be possible. He was so  _ sure _ that this had to be it. He flipped to the next page, and the next, pages turning in his hands all the way to the end. Still nothing. 

He tossed the book back on the shelf, blood pressure rising. What the hell had he been thinking following a feeling? He shivered as a draft blew past him and he started towards the exit, to resume his search in the religion section—where he should have gone all along. 

A thump from behind distracted him. 

Words, in dark blue ink, had appeared on the pages the book had fallen open to. His eyes widened in astonishment as he hurriedly knelt next to the book, unable to believe what he was seeing.

On the page, a perfectly drawn likeness of the tall, muscled demon he had been seeking. Underneath, a single word to caption it:  _ Buer. _

A phantom sensation ghosted across his cheek, the imprint of smooth lips against his skin. He froze. 

How could he have been such an idiot? Of course it was her, what was he thinking just following some strange tug in his gut, what had ever caused him to abandon his rationality and follow something mystic, especially in his line of work? Besides, hadn’t she said she loved books? He should have known this was her all along.

He couldn’t trust her. And that meant he couldn’t trust this information. Who knew what he could accidentally release, what curse or incantation he could unintentionally begin? He swore to himself he could never use this knowledge.

But just so, he stayed in that position for hours. Committing every detail to memory, not knowing when the words would become useful.


End file.
